"And then dear mother's jams and preserves, love! I own it, Caudle;
it has often gone to my heart that with cold meat you haven't always
had a pudding. Now if mother was with us, in the matter of fruit
puddings she'd make it summer all the year round. But I never could
preserve--now mother does it, and for next to no money whatever.
What nice dogs-in-a-blanket she'd make for the children!

"WHAT'S DOGS-IN-A-BLANKET?

"Oh, they're delicious--as dear mother makes 'em.

"Now, you HAVE tasted her Irish stew, Caudle? You remember that?
Come, you're not asleep--you remember that? And how fond you are of
it! And I know I never have it made to please you! Well, what a
relief to me it would be if dear mother was always at hand, that you
might have a stew when you liked. What a load it would be off my
mind.

"Again, for pickles! Not at all like anybody else's pickles. Her
red cabbage--why, it's as crisp as biscuit! And then her walnuts--
and her all-sorts! Eh, Caudle? You know how you love pickles; and
how we sometimes tiff about 'em? Now if dear mother was here, a word
would never pass between us. And I'm sure nothing would make me
happier, for--you're not asleep, Caudle?--for I can't bear to
quarrel, can I, love?

"The children, too, are so fond of her! And she'd be such a help to
me with 'em! I'm sure, with dear mother in the house, I shouldn't
care a fig for measles, or anything of the sort. As a nurse, she's
such a treasure!